


it never does

by ryuuzaou



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Drabble, Established Relationship, Gun Violence, Implied time loop, M/M, Time Loop Theory, this is honestly just really upsetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:26:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8551567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuzaou/pseuds/ryuuzaou
Summary: Kaworu really, really thought he'd gotten it right this time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> why did i do this to myself. as if these gays need any more suffering. i hate angst why did i do this

“Do I make you happy, Shinji?” Kaworu asks one night, lying on his back in their bed and staring at the ceiling.

Shinji shifts his weight up onto his elbows, frowning at Kaworu. “Of course you do. Happier than I’ve ever dreamed of being.”

Kaworu sighs. He blinks, slowly, as if close to dozing off. Shinji knows that he isn’t tired; whenever Kaworu is about to sleep, he clutches Shinji close, and makes him promise he won’t leave while he’s asleep (he doesn’t understand, but he always does). 

The silence, normally clear, is stifling. Shinji breaks it. “Why do you ask?”

There’s a shudder in Kaworu’s sigh this time. He tries to cover it with a hum, but it isn’t unnoticed. “No particular reason,” he says, but his lips thin a little.

He’s lying.

Although Shinji knows this, he doesn’t push it. Kaworu will tell him when he’s comfortable. The tone of Kaworu’s voice worries Shinji a bit. He stands up, pausing in the doorway of their bedroom.

“I’m going to grab some ice cream,” he says. “Should I bring one spoon or two?”

Kaworu smiles. “Two.”

“Two spoons, extra chocolate sauce. Got it.” Shinji smiles back, soft and fond. He blows a kiss to Kaworu, who mimes grabbing it and pressing it to his lips. Shinji laughs as he heads toward the kitchen.

He’s reaching for a bowl when he sees the dark figure in the living room. Shinji freezes, his wide-eyed gaze flicking from the man’s masked face to the gun aimed at him. He doesn’t need to be told that if he makes a sound, makes any sort of movement at all, he’ll be shot. So frozen he stays, arms still halfway in the air to grab the bowl. He can barely breathe. 

The man with the gun is taking careful steps toward the window, which Shinji now sees is open. The man is a step away when Shinji’s phone chimes on the counter, its vibration against the granite loud and startling in the silence of the room.

Too startling. 

A gunshot. 

The man dives out the window. Shinji’s hands move slowly, touching the spot on his abdomen where a warm red stain is spreading over his shirt. His knees give way the moment Kaworu shouts his name, diving across the tile to catch Shinji before his head hits the floor. 

Kaworu pulls Shinji onto his lap, yanking the towel that hangs on the dishwasher handle to press against the wound. Shinji winces, but shock and adrenaline dull the pain. In fact, he can barely register exactly what’s happened at all. He reaches up a hand to touch Kaworu’s face, leaving bloody trails across his cheek. 

“Hey,” he breathes, “it’s okay.” 

“Shinji.” Kaworu is crying, his tears dripping from his chin onto Shinji’s face. “No, Shinji, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be  _ right  _ this time.”

“It… it was.” Shinji’s voice is a wheeze, stuttered where blood must be caught in his throat. “Y’know, you—” He coughs. “Made ev’rythin’ perfect. Happy.”

One of Kaworu’s hands keeps the soaked towel against Shinji’s wound, while the other clutches Shinji’s hair, his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. He bows his head, pressing their foreheads together. His skin is cold. His tears are hot. 

“I love you so much, Shinji,” he murmurs. “I will never, never stop loving you, no matter how many times I have to go back. I’ll get it right, Shinji, I swear, I’ll get it right. You’ll be happy—we’ll be happy.”

“I am,” Shinji’s hand falls, “happy. ‘Cause… you’re here.” 

Part of Kaworu wants to call 911, but that would mean leaving Shinji’s side. That would mean losing precious seconds feeling Shinji’s breath on his skin. It wouldn’t matter, anyway. 

It  
never  
does.

“Love you.” Shinji’s voice is nothing but a breath. 

His last.

There is still a smile on his lips.

Kaworu cries, and the heat of Shinji’s body seeps into the tiles. Everything was right this time. It was wonderful. They met early. They were friends for years before Shinji’s shy confession, before they kissed because they wanted to, not because of spin the bottle or truth or dare. They went to the same college, had classes together. Their engagement rings are silver with a small garnet embedded in the band, Shinji’s favorite gemstone (“It reminds me of your eyes,” he’d said). Their wedding was supposed to be in four months. 

He really, really thought he’d gotten it right this time. 

When he touches his lips to Shinji’s cheek, it’s barely warm. “Next time,” he promises, gently lowering his love to the floor and rising to his feet. “I’ll see you there.”

Kaworu closes his eyes, takes a step forward, and is  
gone.


End file.
